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UNTITLED a series of prose poems by Antara Datta

January 1, 2010 Contributed By: Antara Datta

Window

She came to live with us when I was 12. She would sit at the window with a toothless smile, wrapped in white with breasts that needed no cover or holding up, eyes layered with years, looking at the road outside, longing for home. Perhaps. Big mother. Old mother. Grand mother. She left me a gold bracelet, an old name and a longing for the road.

 

Rivers

I walk around the sodium-lit rings of Connaught place late at night looking for you. There, the wrinkles on my hand look even, and I see you on that bench, looking at your hands too. There, we think of rivers—Jordan, Amazon, Nile, Euphrates, Congo—and our silted feet.

 

A Picture

A certain bus ride in late August—Calcutta. The trees moved in a hurry. Windswept. She stood on the last step, socks pulled down to the ankles, the left toe caressing the back of the right knee—daring. 17. His hands held her close without props or excuse—then—a whisper, not a secret. 19 and something. Blood intimate. Cousins. The moment—rain-soaked. Pressed dry in words now.

 

Improvement

I came to you as monsoon grass, surprising your toes with an occasional mushroom or primrose. I was the first splash of orange on a canvas, unsure whether to be sunrise or sunset. I am an even green—mowed and pruned, and hang as art in the corner of your soft-lit living room. I am since, much improved.

 

Me and You

I can play at being you in the dark- easy with love, soft with lies, blue of skin, hazy of years. But keep that light away from me-you! In focus, I become more human than a god.

 

Nightfall

I see the dark come at me through the window like an unlit truck. I stand in its way, my hands hold each other, locked in forever. Prepared. The light on the table, gentle and beguiled under a shade, hits my face in a flash. Blinding me for a while. Coward.

 

Return to table of contents for Issue 2 Winter 2010

Filed Under: Poetry Posted On: January 1, 2010

Further Reading

Gracile
by David Armstrong

Gracile. An esoteric word, certainly. A thesaurus word if ever there were one. Gloria is gracile. Slender, small, compact. A pixie gold haircut and tanned cheeks. Twenty-two and suffering from recent disappointments reaped from a year abroad interning in Tanzania at the Jane Goodall Institute. Twenty-two, graduated with a biology degree, specialization in zoological sciences, […]

MAYDAY Magazine: Issue 2 Winter 2010

ART curated by Maya Kóvskaya PRACTICES, POWER & THE PUBLIC SPHERE: Dialogical Space & Multiple Modernities in Asian Contemporary Art ART NONFICTION Maya Kóvskaya Public Action Art and Performative Interventions in the Chinese Public Sphere ART NONFICTION William Hurst (performance photography by Han Bing) ORPHANS OF PROGRESS: Workers and Political Discourse in Post-Socialist China ART […]

November
by Donna Fleischer

[Editors’ Note: An edited version of the following poem was published in chapbook form by Casa de Cinca Press. It is reprinted with permission here.] i. Prologue Lithuania, country of my grandmother’s body unfolding in the cave-like cotton motion of her sleeping gown       our dreaming feet entwined toward rest there    where I had never been […]

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